


Gambit

by OfficerICanExplain



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Chess, Desperation, Dr. Flug Makes Bad Life Choices, M/M, Masochism, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficerICanExplain/pseuds/OfficerICanExplain
Summary: Risks were intended to be calculated and clever. Flug begins to worry if his are deprived and desperate.





	Gambit

**Author's Note:**

> I ashamedly admit that this took me about a month to write due to extreme procrastination.

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

Flug couldn't recall whether or not Black Hat kept clocks in his office, yet the sound rang clear through his mind. It forced him out of his concentration, sparing him the moment to cast a fretful glance up at the eldritch before him. His fear was greeted with indifferent nonchalance. Yet ,despite how casual his employer seemed, Flug could taste the tension in the atmosphere. It was thick and palpable. It was heavily saturated and seemed to cling to the ambiance itself. The hungry intensity nearly had him choking on air, forcing dread to stir up deep within the pits of his belly. His blood ran brisk as his breath had turned bated. There was something eager, something predatory, something distinctively  _ Black Hat  _ in the silence that had settled about. It was eerie, the way the room seemed to hold its breath, the way crimson light seemed to be waiting for that opportune moment to strike. It was entirely nerve wrecking, bile almost forced its way upon his tight throat. His breath was shallow, the paper bag wrinkling with each heavy breath. But he had no time to waste. Flug’s gaze had immediately returned to the task at hand, prompted by a quirk of the demon’s brow. Were they really eyebrows? He had always wondered that, they seemed more like antennae to him. Did they have the same function- No, he was getting off track now. He had to  _ focus.  _

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

His mouth stung with protest as he forced a gulp of air, saliva wadding painfully down that passage of his throat. His neck prickled anxiously, beads of sweat formed and clung to paper as his gaze bored down at the monochromatic board stationed before the both of them. The inventor squirmed in his seat, each writhe clear as dawn to the horror seated before him, in a mirrored stance. Chess. His employer, on pure whim, suggested that they play chess. Flug, in the abruptness of it all, agreed to it. Foolishly, of course. It was never wise to ever indulge in any sort of ‘game’ with Black Hat. He set ludicrous stakes and was not at all opposed to playing dirty. It was merely another method of torture; slow and improvised. Flug shivered in the remembrance of  _ poker _ , the shelf of his shoulder drawn tight as the memory- or rather  _ memories  _ bathed over him. He had been ‘asked’ to play more than once. Poker, as his boss falsely reassured him, was a game of complete chance. There was no way that even he could manipulate that. Yet, to Flug’s horror, he witnessed the cards change themselves within his grasp. The suits bled away and the numbers faded into the thin card, morphing into something else. Even the measly one pair he managed to achieve was stripped away from him, as was any meager chance he had at winning. And then followed his punishment for losing. 

He shivered once again. He wasn’t sure if it was in horror. He pushed the thought aside. 

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

Losing was- well, in that situation, he really- there was no other option. He had spent many lonely nights reassuring himself, that he had been forced to comply with the terms. That was the sole variable, there was no random error present. Losing was something humans disliked by nature, people didn't want to lose. They shouldn't have wanted to lose. 

Of course, he didn't want to lose to his tormentors! Especially not to those that had harassed him all his life, he definitely wanted to get back at them!

But, Flug was a very very very broken man with warped and twisted ideals. 

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

Gloved digits carefully considered the white pawn upon the board (Black Hat had insisted he play the black pieces, Flug was smart enough to humour him), the pad of his index carefully pressed atop the smooth head. While poker had spelled his obvious doom, chess on the other hand; chess was something else! Chess relied upon logic, upon intellect, upon acute observation and reasoning. And he, he was a man of science! Perhaps even the most brilliant scientist of them all! Something so rational, something so tactical- it was perfect for him. So long as Black Hat played fair, then just maybe,  _ maybe,  _ he had a fair shot at winning? Obviously, Black Hat perhaps may have had more experience than Flug in the game, but! But! Tactic was his forte! It was what he was made for, it was what he excelled at completely! Just  _ maybe _ he had a chance! 

If only it was so. The game had already progressed long enough to spell out Flug’s fate.

It was painfully clear that Black Hat was simply toying with him, prolonging his inevitable execution. The pieces were incomprehensible before him, panic clouding over his thoughts. No, no,  _ no.  _ This wasn’t right, he just had to think. He had to think. However, his ingenuity only blared in anxiety. The train-wreck of his thoughts had lost all direction, scattered and meaningless as the porcelain pieces before him. There was no point. He knew this. Black Hat knew this. He knew that Black Hat knew. And Black Hat knew that Flug knew. He set the pawn two spaces forward. The king had lost one of its defenses. If it was meaningless, if it merely ended with his own loss; then why did Flug continue to venture? Maybe he wanted to l-

His heart thudded painfully as he beheld the face-splitting grin before him. As he witnessed those horrible fangs gleam in the crimson light. As he reckoned with the clawed hand sweeping across the board, casually making the next play. His mouth felt dry. His wrists held a hint of the slightest tremor.

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

So why did he continue to venture? Why, even if it held no profit for him? The latex of his gloves hastily skimmed over the pieces, unsure of which to move. Damn it! What happened to his plans? Wasn’t he supposed to be good at this? Was that why Black Hat seemed all the more amused, as to why he was being suspiciously patient? It was like everything else, he supposed. Why he actually enjoyed his stay in the manor, why he tried and tried and  _ tried  _ his damned hardest to please. It was all an elaborate gambit. All of it. Much like the pawn he moved. A risk, at times calculated and others fueled by sheer panic. It was a gamble for more, for perhaps just an inkling of- of what? Flug wasn’t sure. Recognition? Admiration? Praise? A shred of evidence of his worth? He, of course, never asked for any of that when agreeing to the wagers. It was always something simple, something he wouldn’t lament being stripped away from him. Sometimes, the inventor would ask for an hour break, other times permission to buy materials for his model planes; random and miscellaneous things that he would never be granted. It was asking for such things that spurred his attention and focus upon one thing: losing. 

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

Flug carefully considered the queen. He pitied it, out of all the other pieces. The pawn did appear to have the worst plight, but the queen. The queen was an incredibly valuable piece, it could accomplish nearly anything! It had what the other pieces lacked and was, possibly, the most reliable of all the pieces. Yet, it didn’t matter. All the true power laid with the king. Regardless of what the queen could havoc, it was all meaningless without the king. If the queen fell; well, so long as there were other pawns about, the queen could be replaced. Certainly it wasn’t easy to do so, but regardless, the queen was replaceable. Indispensable. Perhaps more than pawns, in Flug’s opinion. He felt a pang in his heart, carefully lifting the piece up. 

Flug found it much easier and much wiser to purposely lose to the eldritch horror. To bare his neck to the torment, in the hope that it would end quickly. Wound licking was something he was accustomed to, it wasn’t new to him. There was no profit in opposing the insults that rained down upon him, to retaliate against the hands that would strike him. It would have been suicide. 

He noticed there was a small chip upon the queen. It was broken, a single crack running along the side. It wasn’t noticeable, at first. However, the longer he rolled it in his trembling palm, the more apparent it seemed. Flug was, momentarily, surprised that Black Hat even kept broken possessions. 

“Does something trouble you, Doctor.” 

The ticking was replaced ( _ what  _ had been the source of the sound?!) with the sudden gravel of his boss, rattling in the silence that screamed within the room. It was maddening, the pressure. He could feel his knees knock against one another. 

“No!” Another gulp. “S-sir.” He added in hastily. It was the first time that either of them had spoken during the match. It was clear prompting that Flug needed to  _ hurry up.  _ There was no reason for him to dawdle, not when the trigger had already been pulled. Visceral dread began to well up in his system, along with. . .something he did  _ not  _ want to name. The piece seem to echo as it was placed down. The crimson pupil had shrunk down to a pinprick, the monocle gleaming as the fangs before him were bared with an eager fervour. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. 

Flug wondered just when he had began to anticipate his losses. When the dark part of his broken, broken, broken mind longed for it. For the wager to be played out. It was a risk, all of it. A stupid gamble. He shrunk into the seat as his king was viciously knocked off the board. He listened as it rolled and clattered off to the side, echoing the promise that it would Flug’s turn next. 

“Checkmate.” 

He never took risks, unless they were calculated. Yet, before Black Hat, reason held no face. His word was law, all else would be dismissed. Yes, that was how Flug lived by. He had the scientific method, of course, but that just wasn’t the same. So for now, he would lose. He would lose the absurd wagers, he would play along with the taxing ‘games’, he would allow for his conscience to be broken down to the most single element. He would allow all of that for a chance to revel beneath the cold leather touch that gripped his arms firm, beneath the claws that threatened to tear away into his trembling flesh. For the grating of teeth, just so present at his artery. For the threat that pressed upon his mind. To be broken down to an incomprehensible mess, sobbing incoherently. To be wrecked, to be ruined, to be utterly devastated. It provided him with a shred of- he didn't know. His depravity didn't allow him to know, his depravity reasoned that he should purposely lose. Simply because losing, well, losing-

“Clever man _ ,”  _ rolled off the tongue that languidly flicked at his ear, sharp teeth tracing the outer shell. A pathetic whine slipped from Flug as those advances trailed lower, as those unforgiving hands roamed at their leisure. 

“_Filthy_ _clever man_.” 

Losing was truly the greatest gambit. 


End file.
